"Finally, I suspect that it is by entering that deep place inside us where our secrets are kept that we come perhaps closer than we do anywhere else to the One who, whether we realize it or not, is of all our secrets the most telling and the most precious we have to tell." Frederick Buechner

Come in! Come in!

"If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a Hope-er, a Pray-er, a Magic Bean buyer; if you're a pretender, come sit by my fire. For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!" -- Shel Silverstein

Sunday, October 30, 2016

On this day in history, October 30, 1971, 60 women, clergy and laity, gathered at Virginia Theological Seminary, just outside our national capital, to organize the effort at the 1973 General Convention to allow access to all three orders of ordination in the church - deacons, priests and bishops - to women.

(NB: Women had been ordained deaconess since 1889 but not considered within the diaconte until 1968 and began being ordained deacons alongside men in 1971.)

They crafted a letter to then Presiding Bishop Hines, stating their shock and distress over the latest meeting of the House of Bishops in the Pocono Mountains which voted to refer the "issue" to yet another commission to "study".

Over the years, the good Bishops had commissioned, received and apparently forgotten a whole series of "studies" including a "blue ribbon" study done as recently as 1967.

The letter to Presiding Bishop Hines, signed by all 60 women present, expressed their shock and disappointment and informed him that none of them would serve on the commission if asked. They also told him that they would not encourage any other woman to serve on the commission, since the time for study had long past.

They also requested (and eventually received) money from the Board of Theological Education (BTE) to hold a series of regional conferences for women and men about the ordination of women.

Forty-five years ago - today - sixty women of absolutely no standing or authority in the church wrote to the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church and said 'Fie!" on your special commission.

These sixty women of "low estate" proclaimed to the man who held the highest office in the institution that they were boycotting his special commission and encouraging every woman in the church to do the same.

Oh, they said, and we want you to give us money so WE the PEOPLE - you know, the ones we 'talk' about as "the priesthood of all believers" and refer to in the invitation to the Service of Ordination with the words, "God willing and the PEOPLE consenting"? - can bring "the issue" to the people for consideration.

Herstory notes that those uppity, nasty women were not successful, first time up at bat. Indeed, they were a colossal failure. The resolution they crafted to change the canons of the church to allow for women to be ordained deacons, priests and bishops, which they took to General Convention in Louisville, 1973, failed miserably.

The vote in the House of Deputies was more profoundly anti-woman (in a vote-by-orders of the clergy) in 1973 than it was in 1970. That seemed like prima facia evidence that bishops had been very busy ... um... "talking" with their clergy.

It was devastating, simply devastating. That was so because, in part, they were naive.

I recall Marge Christie, one of the founders of The Caucus, saying, "You know, we really thought that if we just had the opportunity to allow women to tell their stories, people would see the strength of their call and do the right thing."

I think - I'm not absolutely 100% certain, but I think - this was the moment when merely "uppity women" became strong, bold, brave, convicted, focused - and otherwise "nasty" - women.

It was time to use the rules to break the rules and bring about justice.

If the theological argument was one of "ontology"; if the presumed presenting barrier to the ordination of women was that they did not possess "sufficient ontological matter to be an authentic bearer of a sacerdotal presence," then, by God, it was time for the incarnation.

Or, as my dear friend Ed Bacon has said, "I'm so glad Mary didn't wait for the formulation of a Doctrine of the Incarnation before she said 'Yes" to God."

On July 10, 1974, seven women who were deacons met with four bishops to discuss a possible ordination. A date was set for July 29, 1974 - the Feast of Mary and Martha of Bethany - where, at 11 o'clock in the morning, eleven women who were deacons were "irregularly" ordained to the priesthood at the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia, PA.

There were supposed to have been 12 and there's a backstory about "good deacons" and another strong letter from another strong woman to another bishop which I'll leave for another time.

I want to hit the "pause" button again and ask you to let that all sink in.

The event we so easily refer to as "The Philadelphia Eleven" happened three (3) years after sixty (60) uppity women of little or no institutional standing sent a letter to the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, rejecting his offer to "study their issue" and asking for money for the "priesthood of all believers" to determine the issue of ordination for women.

That ordination - and the ordination of women in the church - would not be "regularized" and the canons changed to allow for the ordination of women for another two (2) years.

It was not until General Convention in Minneapolis, in September 1976, that the canons were changed. Women began to be ordained "regularly" on January 1, 1977 - six years after the founding of The Episcopal Women's Caucus.

Just pause for a moment and put yourself in their sacristy slippers. Imagine waiting two years after your ordination to be declared "legal" and "legitimate".

Let that sink in.

Now, add to that and understand that in those
intervening two years the church absolutely erupted in turmoil. Churches flew
their Episcopal flags upside down and at half-mast - a combination of the symbols of international distress and a significant death. (I am not making this up.)

Male clergy who
allowed the newly ordained to preside at Eucharist at the altar in their
churches were brought up on ecclesiastical charges for "disturbing the peace and well being of the church". (Because, you know. prophetic action never disturbs the peace.)

On August 18, 1974, Dr. Charles Willie, the first African American to be Vice President of the House of Deputies, resigned his position in protest of a statement of the House of Bishops which called the ordinations in Philadelphia "invalid"; he referred to the statement as "a blatant exercise of male arrogance." (And, it was, but there was more to come. To wit - )

On October 27, 1974, a special service was sponsored by the National Council of Churches and held at Riverside Church in NYC to honor and support the Philadelphia ordinations. A collection was made and sent to Presiding Bishop Allin for the the Presiding Bishops Fund for World Relief.

Bishop Allin returned the check because of its "tainted" genesis. (You can NOT make this stuff up.)

There's so much more of the story to tell. So much that makes me ashamed of my church. So much that gives me hope for the church.

So much that is the stuff - the good, the bad and the ugly - of the Body of Christ.

As Jack Spong has said, "The church will die of boredom long before it dies of controversy."

But, here's the lesson learned: 'Incarnation beats Idea' any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

Let me pause and let that sink in: "Incarnation beats Idea".

Jane Holmes Dixon, Cynthia Black, Mary A.R. MacCloud

After July 29, 1974, ordained women were no longer an abstract idea.

They were a reality.

They were incarnate.

Their "ontological matter" was, in fact, "sufficient" to be an "authentic sacerdotal bearer," because, well, there they were.

Women. And, ordained priests.

Whatcha gone do now, bro?

Or, as the astute, modern theologian, Woody Allen, once said, "Showing up is 80% of life."

I encourage you to read Marge's history of The Caucus. as well as all the many wonderful books that have been written, some by the Philadelphia Eleven themselves.

All these books on the ordination of women in The Episcopal Church provide study lessons in religious community organizing which, I think, honors the past and serves the future of this amazing church of ours.

I write this not just to honor and celebrate The Episcopal Women's Caucus, an organization I was privileged to serve as President/Convener for over a decade, but also because I feel it is more and more imperative that we remember our herstory.

I know. That's probably just the old woman who has quite suddenly (and, without invitation, I might add) taken up residence in my body, talking that mess again. But, I have to admit that I am especially alarmed when I listen to young, newly ordained women who have absolutely no idea about the struggles which allowed the privilege of their status of ordination.

Indeed, as privilege is of't want to do, these women seem completely oblivious to the privilege which is theirs which was hard fought and well won by their sisters.

I watch them and I listen to them complain about the flagrant injustices in opportunities and compensation, the insensitivities demonstrated by their bishops and rectors - and the harsh judgements and incessant demands of some of their congregations - as they try to juggle priesthood and parenthood.

Oh, hear me clearly: This is not to deny that the struggle is real. It is. Very real.

They complain and seek solace from other clergy, and everyone is empathic and pastoral, but when someone raises the possibility of organizing to change diocesan policy around things like employment, compensation or parenting leave, it stops the conversation immediately. And then, a few months later, someone else posts a complaint and the cycle repeats itself.

Some progress has been made in a few dioceses but the overwhelming status of women in the church is, on average, pretty dismal. Sexism and misogyny continue their powerful presence in our structures and attitudes.

I write that even as I celebrate that the church has elected two women to the episcopacy this year alone - two diocesans, back to back (Spokane and Indianapolis).

And, and, and... besides the first African American diocesan bishop to be a woman, this is the first time a woman diocesan has been followed by the election of another woman diocesan - the first time that's happened in the church since 1996. (That's 20 years but who's counting?)

That's progress at the top levels of the church. Which is progress. Undeniably.

In my experience (see paragraph above), "trickle down theology" is no more effective than its cousin in economics. That said, I am "a very prisoner of hope" that, as we move past the novelty of "firsts" and even "seconds" and reach a "critical mass" of women in the House of Bishops, the status of women throughout the church will improve.

It's always astounding to me when, at the Booths at General Convention, at least two to three women a day look at the banner proclaiming, "The Episcopal Women's Caucus," and, befuddled and bewildered, ask, "What's that?"

I didn't attend the last General Convention, but I'm told the same thing happened - to the same astonishment of the members of The Caucus.

I actually, physically cringe - because it causes actual emotional, spiritual and physical pain - when I read what some women write in social media. This was posted just the other day about the first African American woman to be elected a Bishop Diocesan, "I just like to see qualified candidates. I don't look so much as to color and gender and race. Those things are divisive."

Le sigh. See also: The perils of being naive.

The Witch of Endor

I write this, on the occasion of the 45th anniversary of the founding of The Episcopal Women's Caucus to point us to another "nasty woman."

Tomorrow, October 31st, is the lesser feast of All Hallow's Eve (BCP 106).

In some circles - mostly inhabited by women, it is the even lesser feast of the Witch of Endor. Indeed, her story (1 Samuel 28:3-25) is included as the first reading of All Hallow's Eve.

What I love about this story is that it raises lots more than the ghost of Samuel. Like? Well, like the fact that misogyny in Endor is as old as the
Garden of Eden.

Power that can't be controlled must be Evil and if the
power of a woman can't be controlled, she must be the embodiment of
Evil. The 'woman' of Endor is considered the 'witch' of Endor.

Women who don't know their place are "uppity".

Women who know how to play political hardball with the big boys are "nasty" and have "so much hate in their heart" they should "lock her up" and any contribution she could make must be "tainted."

As we head into this sacred time of facing into what scares and frightens us as we prepare to remember the dead, I ask that you hit the 'pause' button in your life to remember the women.

Remember them and give thanks for all the women / witches in your life and our lives of faith: The Witch of Eden. The Witch of Endor. The Witch of Bethlehem (who had to become a Virgin for her story to be heard and believed!!!). The 60 Witches of The Caucus. The 11 Witches of Philadelphia. The four Witches of Washington.

Remember that, without a woman named Mary of Bethlehem, God could not have achieved God's greatest creation in the sacrificial, salvific incarnation of Jesus.

And then, do something bold and brave and risky yourself.

Say 'no' to same-old-same-old.

Say 'yes' to possibility.

Be 'nasty' your very own badself and demand the financial resources which will enable the people of God to remove walls of ignorance and intolerance and build bridges of knowledge and understanding.

Know that you are standing on a very firm foundation.

You are standing on the shoulders of giants who were the 'nasty' women of their day.

Saturday, October 29, 2016

I'm going to go watch videos with puppies and kitties in a
minute but I have to say that I just read an article in the NY Times,
the headline of which proclaimed that Trump was "ebullient" over the
emails being investigated by the FBI.

You know. The ones Comey
doesn't know anything about, much less whether they are important or
even pertinent. He's not sure HRC wrote them or sent them. Not sure they
are classified or not. They could just be duplicates of what has
already been deemed insignificant.

I also saw Trump's campaign
manager, that ubiquitous, whitest-of-white women, Kellyann Connors,
beaming as she pronounced this "a very good week for our campaign."

What kind of people rejoice at the misfortunes - the injustices - done to others?

That's a serious question. I can't get my head wrapped around this.

When the Access Hollywood tapes were released and we got to hear Donald
describe himself as a sexual predator, I don't remember HRC or anyone
in her campaign gleefully clapping their hands.

And, when yet another
woman came forward to testify that she was groped by Donald, just as he
had described, I don't remember HRC or anyone from her campaign
pronouncing this "a very good week for our campaign."

It is so
tempting to turn the tables on Donald and say, "You know, you're right.
The system IS 'rigged'," but that would be stooping to his level. It
wouldn't be right; neither would it be correct.

The system has
lots of stupid people - incompetent people - little people who do not
have the courage to be leaders. The "system" is also filled with
prejudice and bigotry toward people of color - ALL people of color - and
women and LGBT people and people with disabilites.

It needs to be
changed. Fixed. But, it is not 'rigged'.

I have this feeling, deep in my gut - it's inexplicable, really, just a feeling - that this is all going to work for HRC.

In a few days, Comey is going to be pressured - by BOTH sides - to say
more about those emails.

And, it's going to blow this whole thing up.
Donald will have his usual conniption fit, shoot himself in his foot
with something that comes out of his mouth and blame everyone else
because he's limping.

And, HRC will, as usual, handle herself
with grace and style, skill and confidence - even as the GOP continue to
metaphorically go through her underwear drawer, contemptuously sniffing
around to see what they can find.

That will go on for the next
eight years while she is POTUS. It's not been an easy election. It
will not be an easy presidency. The "boys" will make absolutely certain
of that.

Sometimes, when you break a glass ceiling, you can get
cut by falling glass shards. I believe that's what this whole Comey
email "scandal" is all about. Glass shards. The ceiling is cracked. It's
about to be broken. Things will never again be the same.

Did you really think this would be easy?

Off we go, then, into the last 10 days of this most despicable election
season of all election seasons. Just keep repeating Michele's mantra:
"When they go low, we go high."

Say it again, "When they go low, we go high."

Once more: "When they go low, we go high."

Got it? Good. Now, back to work with the lot of you.

We've got a cracked ceiling to break.

Mind the glass shards. There's bound to be a few more.

But first, just a few minutes to watch videos about puppies and
kitties.

Monday, October 24, 2016

On Sunday, October 23, 2016, family and friends and friends who have become family gathered for the 10 AM service at All Saints Episcopal Church, Rehoboth Beach, DE to celebrate the 30th Anniversary of my ordination in The Episcopal Church and the 40th Anniversary of the covenant made between my Beloved Ms. Conroy and I.

Bishop Gene Robinson, retired of DioNH, was celebrant and preacher.

The lessons included part of the the story about Judith, from the Apocrypha. It was the passage I chose for my ordination - Judith 10:1-10 , brilliantly read by my dear friend, David - wherein Judith breaks her time of mourning for the death of her husband, Manasseh, who was killed by the King. After a time of prayer she gets up, gets dressed, puts on her makeup and jewels and does what needs to be done. That is, she prepares herself to seduce King Holofernes so that she may decapitate him, avenging the death of her husband.As Bishop Gene Robinson jokingly said, ""I don't know this to be fact but I suspect Judith was a badass lipstick lesbian."At the very least, she was a "nasty woman" of antiquity. The Gospel was Matthew's Beatitudes, Matthew 5:1-12, Bishop Gene preached brilliantly on the passage, drawing a distinction between optimism and hope. Optimism is a human condition. Hope, is a spiritual one. Hope is central to being a Christian.

Hope is why people like Barbara and I come back to the church. Not because we trust in the Church but because we trust in God.

I do wish we had thought to record his sermon. It was, as usual, simply brilliant. After the Prayers of the People, Barbara and I and Bill and Anita, the two people who witnessed our legal marriage that day at breakfast at the Long Neck Diner, came forward.

Before God and our family and friends, Gene wrapped our hands in his stole and blessed our covenant. He used these words, adapted from the Wedding Prayer in the film, "Braveheart". (Yes, that violent film had at least this tender moment. I've been saving it for such a moment as this.)

‘These are the hands of your best
friend, once young and strong and vibrant with love, which held yours on the day you
promise to love each other all the days of your life.

These are the hands that will continue to work
alongside of yours, as together you build your future, as you laugh and cry, as
you share your innermost secrets and dreams.

These are that hands which will still passionately
love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness.

These are the hands that will continue, countless
times, to wipe the tears from your eyes: tears of sorrow and tears of joy.

These are the hands which will still comfort
you in illness, and hold you when fear or grief engulfs your heart.

These are the hands that will continue to give you
support and encourage you to chase down your dreams. Together as a team, everything
you wish for can be realized.

And lastly, these are the hands that even when
wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same
unspoken tenderness with just a touch.

And the blessing of God who created
you, the God who loves you and the God who will guide and inspire you, bless
you this day and forever more.

Amen.

Yes, we've gone 40 years without the blessing of the church. Indeed, we've often felt that we have blessed the church more than it has blessed us.

We did not do this because we felt we needed it. I know that might sound arrogant to some. Who does not stand in need of blessing, right?

I don't think there can be any doubt that that attitude first arose out of pain. You know. The religious version of, "You can't fire me, I quit." For a long time it was, "We don't need your damn blessing. We're fine. Just fine."And, we were. And, are.

It's not that way any longer. We aren't angry or hurt any more. It really flows from a deep place of knowing and the confidence that comes from recognizing, over that years, that God has been and is, now, with us, every step of the way we have been and every step we will take in the future.

Whether the church recognized and blessed that or not became immaterial.

We really do have all that we need. We have been blessed to be a blessing - to thank God for God's presence in our lives when we've been vulnerable, when we've been merciful and when we've sought peace, when we've grieved and when we have suffered injustice.

Our lives are filled with gratitude for God's abiding presence.

We did this because our family needed to see the church affirm the covenant we made 40 years ago, and so affirm the covenants made between people of whatever gender.

We did this to help continue the movement in the church to remember that we are in the world, but of the world. As the Body of Christ, we are not about being agents of the state but agents of God.

We did this because the church needs to be clear about the business of the church: covenants and blessings, mission and ministry, not government laws and legal contracts.

We did this because the church, young people and old, needed to see the man who became the first self-affirming gay man, a man who had to wear a bullet proof vest to his own consecration, a man who was the only bishop ever to be dis-invited to a Lambeth Conference, a man who knows about what it means to be badass in order to get the job done and who clearly knows the difference between optimism and hope, bless and affirm the covenant we made 40 years ago.

If anyone knows about God's presence in our lives - especially when we are most vulnerable - it's Gene Robinson. So, it was a meet and right, good and proper thing to do, to ask Gene to bless our covenant in the church we've been attending since 1988.

After 40 years, it was time to be gracious and generous and allow the Grace that has blessed us for four decades to fill the church and bless God's people with hope.

We who have been blessed to be a blessing, know how the Gospel story ends.

Love wins.

God wins.

Our prayer is that the blessing we received will continue to bless the church - and us - to be bold and "badass" and take the risk to do whatever it is that must be done to choose hope and love.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

This morning finds me in a strange but oddly familiar place - the intersection of exhaustion and exhilaration - which often comes after doing a mighty work for what is understood to be the justice of God's Realm.

I've spent the past two days with some of the smartest people on the planet who also have become some of my dearest friends. We have been slogging through cultural and organizational and yes, personal transformation, pushing through the fog of the illusion of safety of what was, even as we slide, headlong, into the rapidly shifting landscape of what is the growing movement for reproductive health, choice, rights and justice.

For a little more than a year we've been planning this creative, hard work of 'renovation' - improving an outdated organizational structure, leaving behind the things that no longer work, repairing the damaged or broken places that still have some years of service left, removing the toxic asbestos and lead paint, and mucking out the build up of - well, there's no other way to say it - flat-out shit that has built up over the years.

It's been a hard year or so that has been coming for the past decade.

The thing about sitting in your own shit pile is that it's comfortable. Soft. Easily adjustable to your body. After a while, you can even get used to the smell. Doesn't change the fact that you've been sitting in your own pile of shit and only you can grab the shovel and begin to dig yourself out.

We met in retreat last August to spend some time examining our past and then some more time looking reality squarely in the face. We explored organizational models of functioning and leadership verses movement models.

We studied different ways of being an organization which is part of a movement. We examined various ways of power and authority. Hierarchy vs. Collaborative. Intersectionality vs. Binary and Linear Thinking. We looked at the necessary ingredients to - and the successful components of - coalition building.

This was the meeting where we were to make decisions to become more of a reflection of the movement we're in. To our amazement, we discovered that our process of decision making, in some ways, mirrors the lives of the women we serve.

We ought not to have been surprised, then, to discover that the push-back from some was pretty fierce.

And yet, we prevailed.

We had to do battle with ghosts. We had to bind old scars we thought were healed but were now suddenly open and painful. We had to move through foreign and sometimes hostile territory.

As we traveled deeper and deeper into imagination and creativity, change and transformation, we shared with each other bits and pieces of hope and creativity from the wise women who have come before us.

We discovered that some of us are what Mr. Trump would call "nasty women". We are strong. We are clear. We know what must be done and we won't be popular or even liked for doing it.

And yet, we persevere.

So much depends on what happens November 8th. We heard that clearly in last night's debate.

Mr. Trump does not trust women's decisions about our own bodies. In turn, many women do not trust Mr. Trump with our country - our nation - the world.

And yet, inexplicably, others do.

As a bone fide 'nasty woman', here's the deal: I. Don't. Care. Vote your conscience. But, for God's sake vote. The lives of so many are on the line. So many women who are being denied reproductive health, rights, choice and justice will be at even greater risk depending on the November 8th vote. No matter what happens, we nasty women will continue to prevail.

We are at the intersection of exhaustion and exhilaration. It is at this crossroad where the Spirit moves and lives and has her being. It is the place where creativity and new life are born out of pain and chaos and the inexplicable joy that comes with freedom to choose your own way forward. Nasty women know shit and we are not afraid to take the risk of digging out ourselves and our sisters.

One of my dear friends closed out our meeting yesterday with this poem as a meditation.

I remember it well but had forgotten just how inspiring it can be to those of us moving forward forward together into the future, holding onto hope even as our anxieties threaten to hold us back.

I share it with you now in hopes that it will inspire you and encourage you to make it through these next two weeks:

Si Se Puede! A luta continua. We can do it.

American Herstory

By celeste doaks

Tell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many before you, some who won, some who lost.

You consulted Assata, Roe vs. Wade, Harriet and Jocelyn Elders

to no avail. Her words on contraception twisted into a bitter pretzel.

The bits broken off, used to destroy her.

Tell them its always under attack, its predators everywhere. They lurk behind Mississippi clinics or around Georgetown blocks dressed in blue uniform. Tell them you have the cure, somewhere at home,

Sunday, October 16, 2016

This is a sermon about persistence. Actually, it’s a sermon about
persistence as a manifestation of hope, and hope as the motivation of prayer.

That’s because this morning’s gospel story is about the
persistent widow. That’s how we come to know her. Like so many women in
Scripture, she doesn’t have a name. Just a title. Like “The Woman At The
Well”.Or, “The Woman and the Lost
Coin.” Or, “The Daughter of Jarius.” She is the “Persistent Widow”.

I have been known to be fairly persistent myself. My
grandmother said I was a willful child. But, she didn’t mean it as a bad thing.
Being willful, in my family, was a good thing. It was a sign of strength. It
was a mark of character. So, because I was a willful child who grew up to be a
persistent woman, I’m going to name this nameless woman in scripture.

I’m going to call her Ethel.

Ethel, we are told, was a real pest to a certain judge. Her
rights had been violated in some way – we don’t know exactly what or how or why
– but given the status of women in antiquity that’s not the remarkable part of
the story.

Given what we know of the status of women in antiquity, it’s
remarkable at all that she was seeking justice for herself. Indeed, it’s flat
out amazing that she was persistent in seeking justice for herself.

The judge – Well, you know what? I’m going to name him, too.
I’ll call him ‘Fred’ – the judge, it seems, was a pretty arrogant man. He
didn’t care two figs about what God thinks, much less what people think.

But, Ethel was persistent and Fred, we are told, got weary
of her so finally, he caved in and gave her justice. Not because she deserved it, necessarily. But,
because he was just tired out by her persistence.

Or, maybe because she was
right and it was just that obvious.

Fred and Ethel. Weren’t they the upstairs neighbors of Lucy
and Desi? They were the Mertz right? Fred and Ethel Mertz. How about that for
free association?

I promise, no drinking of wine was involved in the
preparation of this sermon.

Jesus told this story about Fred and Ethel to his disciples,
we are told, to teach them something about prayer.

Well, here’s what I want to say about that: The first thing
is that prayer, at least in my experience, is a very personal thing. Behind
every petition of prayer, there is a human face. Indeed, when we pray together
the Prayers of the People, we human beings come together to put our faces and
our bodies and our minds and our hearts and our souls into those prayers.

They are not just words on paper. They are persistent
petitions of hope. That’s why the person reading the prayers often stops and
creates a space for people to say the names of the people who come to mind
during that petition. Prayer is personal. We can lose site of that with the various forms
of our Prayers. It becomes powerfully personal when it has a name. Like Ethel.
And, Fred.

I think persistence is a manifestation of hope and hope is a
form of prayer.

Think about that for a minute: If you don’t have hope, why ever
would you persist? Why even bother? Prayer is fueled by hope and hope sparks
persistence and persistence puts the hopes of prayer into action.

Note, please, that Ethel did not sit in the Temple and
quietly read from the prayers in the back of the BCP or piously recite the rosary.
Well, she might have done that, too, but Ethel must have been a willful child
who grew up to be a persistent woman. She took her petition directly to the
person who could answer her prayer.

She went directly to Fred.

Not everyone has that sort of … well . . . persistence.
Because, not everyone has that kind of hope. Some of us are simply beaten down
by the realities of life. We have come to believe that no one will listen to
us, even if we tell the truth. That, no one really cares. That we are not really
worth it. Or, that if we tell the truth, we might be punished for it or not be
believed or have to pay a very high price for it. That it may backfire and not
be worth it in the end.

If you’ve been listening to the news – and, who could
possibly escape it these days – you have seen or heard a few examples of
persistent women. Some of these women have been waiting a long time to tell the
truth of their stories.

Three of them have, in fact, been telling their stories
for over 30 years. The others had been silent because they had been afraid.
Confused. Thought they had brought it on themselves. Thought, well, this is
just what it’s like for a woman.

And, in part and for many years, that’s not
been incorrect.

Before this week, they were just women without names who had
been talked about. Bragged about as victories of predatory machismo. Topics of
locker room banter. Just words, that’s all. Nothing to concern yourselves with.

We see the harm done – even after decades later. We see the
foul and it is vulgar and indecent and lewd.The sad truth is that the only justice they may get is in having had the
opportunity to tell their story – to tell the truth of what happened to them –
and to have people listen and know.

Unfortunately, they are also experiencing some injustice all
over again. One woman has left the country with her family because she was
being tormented by people who didn’t believe her and thought she was telling
the story for other reasons. For some sort of ‘fame’ (Seriously?). Or,
possibly, for some sort of financial gain.

Or, maybe they’re just crazy for
thinking they were once attractive enough to be molested.

Their stories have touched our stories. Somewhere inside
each one of us, we know. We understand. We may not have been molested or groped
ourselves, but we know what it is like to have told a deep personal truth about
ourselves and not been believed or heard because someone else was rich or
powerful and didn’t care.

Please, make no mistake: I am not telling you these things
about these women to take a political side in this election. Indeed, there are
women on both sides of the political aisle with stories to tell about alleged sexual
predators. This is not a sermon about politics. This is a sermon – albeit a
difficult sermon – about persistence.

It’s a sermon about persistence as a
manifestation of hope and hope as the motivation of prayer.

I have to tell you that, as a willful child who has grown
into a persistent woman, like our First Lady and many of you, I can’t stop thinking about this. I know many women –
many of whom are also survivors of predatory sexual assault – and many good
men, my brothers, sure and true – who who have mothers and daughters
and nieces and sisters – and their own stories to tell – who also can’t stop thinking
about this.

It has shaken us all to our core in a way that was completely
unpredictable.

Although, actually, we probably should have known. We’ve
been through this before in our public lives. Anita Hill is one name many will
recognize. Clergy who are pedophiles is another. Cops who pull women over for
minor traffic violations and then molest them. We should know that, when truth
like this is exposed, something happens – something is set free……something is
set in motion – in the universe that is unstoppable and irreversible.

It has been said that whenever a person stands up against
injustice, whenever the truth is told and a lie is exposed and justice is
demanded – something in the cosmos shifts. The tectonic plates deep in the
layers of the planet slip just ever so slightly and a tiny fissure – a small
crack – begins to open. And, the whole earth groans into the universe, the
sound of which reaches a place deep in our souls and we, with the rest of the
world, are deeply moved and deeply disturbed.

So, while it would be wonderful to just pretend that this
isn’t happening, while it would be lovely, in a way, to be like Fred, the judge
in this morning’s Gospel story, and not care two figs about what God thinks,
much less what people think, and sweep it all under the rug and just go on with
our lives and convince ourselves that church is a place for perfect, happy
people and Christianity provides some sort of inoculation against injustice and
other bad things… and . . .

.... well… truth be told . . . . I just can’t do that.

It would be dishonest and disingenuous and I wouldn’t be
preaching the gospel. Instead, I’d simply just be the Sunday morning
entertainment. That is not what I
understand my vocation to be as an Episcopal priest.

The gospel isn’t like that. Did you hear what Jesus said?

Jesus raised up the story of Ethel, the persistent widow, who went to Fred, the
arrogant judge, and said, “You want to know what prayer is? Prayer is like
this: Look at Ethel over there. She keeps telling her story of injustice even
though she is not believed. She keeps telling her story of injustice even
though she is ignored. She keeps telling her story of injustice even though she
is not given justice”.

That, says Jesus, is what prayer is.It is persistent. It is built on the
foundation of hope. It is uttered with the understanding that God – the Divine
Cosmic Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit – WILL hear your prayer.

God WILL
hear your cry.

God WILL bring about justice.

The other important message in this morning’s gospel for me
is that it comes to us at this time in our lives of faith when we as a
community of women and men who profess a faith in Christ incarnate, Christ crucified,
Christ resurrected and Christ ascended are being given a vocational charge to have honest,
albeit difficult conversations about human sexuality.

Not just homosexuality. Human
sexuality.

What we are hearing is not normal. We ought not normalize it
by our silence. And, that’s exactly what silence does. It makes it “normal”. It
makes it “okay.”

It is not normal.

It is not okay.

Apart from who you will or will not vote for, if we, as a
community of faith, cannot talk about and address the evil of predatory sexual
assault, who will?

If we, as a Body of Christ, cannot feel the earth shift and
hear the cosmos groan with the cry of injustice, who will?

If we, as people who have been baptized and promise to
“respect the dignity of every human being,” cannot keep that promise for our
mothers and daughters and sisters and aunts and cousins and friends, please
tell me, who will?

This is where willfulness is important to the nature and
character of a person. This is where persistence is an essential component of
prayer and hope is the essence of a life of Christian faith. It does not come
without cost.

This is why Jesus told us the story of the unjust judge and
the persistent widow. We are not told the exact nature of her “injustice”,
leading me to wonder what it was that was too difficult to mention?

Or, was it,
perhaps, considered so commonplace that it needed no mention?

It was originally told and meant for times when the first
disciples were learning about what it means to follow Jesus.

It was originally
told and meant for times such as these, when people today – living in this post
modern era – are learning about the true cost of discipleship.

It was
originally told and is meant for all those who will come after us – our
granddaughters and grandsons and great granddaughters and great grandsons – to whom
this story will be told with lessons to be learned by new generations of people.

It is a timeless story of the inordinate importance and
compelling imperatives about what it means to be a person of prayer who
professes to follow Jesus. It involves risk.

It involves putting your faith
into action. It involves hope and belief in a God who loves us enough to
inspire us to bring about justice against the oppression of people in our own
day and time. For ourselves and others.

This is a sermon about a judge I’ve called Fred and a woman
I’ve called Ethel, because it is important to put a face behind stories of
injustice petitions of prayer for justice.

This is a sermon about persistence.
This is a sermon about persistence as a manifestation of hope, and hope as the motivation
of prayer.

My prayer for us all on this day and all the days of our
lives is that we learn to have the persistence of women like Ethel in our lives
of prayer, that we may always know hope.

I
will leave you to ponder the question of Jesus, “And yet, when the Son of Man
comes, will he find faith on earth?"

Monday, October 10, 2016

If you're anything like me, you are sick unto death of watching the almost continuous loop of that horrific clip on the Access Hollywood bus with Donald Trump and Billy Bush.

I know I should turn it off or walk away but I'm drawn to watching that lying-sack-of-crap liar and sexual predator finally caught in the act.

There it is. For all the world to see. And, hear. What we've all known. What he's denied, all along.

The man is a pig.

A lying, unmitigated, unrepentant, privileged, white (well, okay, orange), heterosexual (or, so he says, but there is THIS video) male (because, he says, his "big" hands indicate the "big" size of his penis) chauvinist pig.

As the waves of outrage wash over me about Trump, however, I find myself more and more outraged by his companion on the bus, the host on the Access Hollywood bus, Billy Bush.

Billy Bush is an affable sort. A thoroughly charming combination of the "boy next door," a pinch of the mischievous prankster, a handful of the protective and caring "big brother" - even if you are an outrageously dressed gay man like Johnny Weir - all mixed in with just enough of the "cool dad" to provide him with high popularity rates.

He's the son of Jonathan Bush, the younger brother of George W.H. Bush, POTUS #41. He went to the prestigious - and now notorious - St. George's Prep in Newport, RI, and graduated from Colby College in Waterville, ME where he was twice captain of the lacrosse team.

He's been the co-host of "Access Hollywood" for several years but recently left to take a spot as an "entertainment journalist" with NBC's TODAY Show. Billy Bush did apologize. Almost immediately. He wrote:

"Obviously I'm embarrassed and ashamed. It's no excuse but this happened eleven years ago - I was younger, less mature, and acted foolishly in playing along. I'm very sorry."

Neither Billy Bush nor Donald Trump have offered an apology to the two women who were objectified and spoken of in vulgar, lewd terms.

They have names. Nancy O'Dell, who used to be co-host with Bully Bush on Access Hollywood and is the entertainment journalist for and co-host of the TV program Entertainment Tonight.

The other woman who was the target of Trump and Bush was actress Arianne Zucker, the Days of our Lives star who would be Trump's host on the soap-opera set.

Bush declared Ms. Zucker "hot as (expletive), adding "The Donald has
scored." He would later try and help his buddy out by encouraging Ms. Zucker
to hug Trump.

When you watch the clip, you can see her "taking one for the team" and give The Donald a side ways hug.

She seems ever so much happier to hug Mr. Bush, even at The Donald's encouragement. See also: "seems an affable sort" and "boy next door" and "charming".

On Saturday afternoon, Ms. O'Dell issued a statement via the website for her current show, Entertainment Tonight. She wrote:

"Politics aside, I’m saddened that these comments still exist in our
society at all," she wrote. "When I heard the comments yesterday, it was
disappointing to hear such objectification of women. The conversation
needs to change because no female, no person, should be the subject of
such crass comments, whether or not cameras are rolling. Everyone
deserves respect no matter the setting or gender. As a woman who has
worked very hard to establish her career, and as a mom, I feel I must
speak out with the hope that as a society we will always strive to be
better."

Ms. Zucker has also issued a statement. She, too, is very clear about calling both men into account and standing tall and strong. She wrote:

“My name is Arianne (R-E-on) ZUCKER (Zooker) and I am a strong,
independent, hard working mother, business woman and partner to a great
man,” she wrote on Twitter. “I have grown to learn that the words of
others cannot effect the value of my self worth or define the content of
my character. How we treat one another, whether behind closed doors,
locker rooms or face to face, should be done with kindness, dignity and
respect. Unfortunately, there are too many people in power who abuse
their position and disregard these simple principles and are rewarded
for it. In understanding the magnitude of this situation, I choose to
stand tall with self respect and use my voice to enrich, inspire and
elevate the best of who we are as people.”

And, as I said, neither Trump nor Bush have offered an apology to either Ms. O'Dell or Ms. Zucker.

If I were either of the two women, I wouldn't hold my breath.

Donald Trump is such a poor excuse for a human being that I have no expectations for his showing any humanity. He is not beyond redemption, but, as yet, he has demonstrated not a shred of remorse or regret.

"It's just words, folks," he said at Monday's debate. "Just locker room talk."

It's just "boys will be boys," see? Perfectly normal. Just the way guys talk.

Trump would not have been able to get away with saying those lewd and salacious things were it not for Billy Bush, egging him on and being thoroughly comfortable with and, in fact, obviously enjoying his mano-a-mano "locker room" banter and time alone with The Donald on the bus.

Billy Bush makes it believable that this is how all guys talk when it's just "boys being boys".

Some of my male friends tell me - EMPHATICALLY - that this is not true.

However, some of my male friends have told me that some men DO talk like this and that it is sickening to them.

Some men have told me that, when they have been in the presence of these men and these conversations, they have felt powerless to say or do anything but go along with it because, well, because these particular men happen to be gay and they knew the consequences if they "objected too much".

The best they could do, they tell me, was to walk away.

Billy Bush has a wife. Together, they have three daughters.

My sincere hope is that Billy Bush uses this time of his "suspension" to think about how he might help, in Ms. O'Dell's words, "to change the conversation."

I hope he can find his voice for and about this issue and begin to speak, mano-a-mano, to other men about the evil of the objectification of women and the even greater evil of the predatory fantasies and actions of men toward women.

I believe Billy Bush is a good man.

I met him once. He came to church where I was rector. St. Paul's in Chatham. He and his wife and their three daughters. They signed up for Church School.

Yes, they are Episcopalian. Or, at least, were at the time. Although, I think I remember Mr. Bush saying that his wife was Presbyterian.

They came, they said, because they heard that it was one of the few liberal churches in the area. And, that we had a great youth group. In fact, both of those things were true.

Sydney Davis, his wife, and their daughters, came back. Once. Then, Billy got the gig in LA and the family moved cross country. I think we were just a little too small a congregation for them.

People gawked, as they will. I really can't blame the Bush family for feeling uncomfortable.

I don't know that this makes any difference, but I hope it does.

I hope he is able to take this horrific situation and use it for some good.

Billy Bush is Everyman, and every man needs to learn that not only is this behavior unacceptable for them, they need to hold each other accountable when they hear any objectification of or demeaning talk about women.

He needs to remind them that we are their mothers, their sisters, their wives, their daughters, their cousins, their coworkers, their neighbors, their friends, their doctors, their lawyers, their clergy, their elected officials, their fellow human beings on Planet Earth.

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About Me

I am a joyful Christian who claims the fullness of the Anglican tradition of being evangelical, Anglo-Catholic, charismatic, orthodox and radical. Since 1991, my canonical residence has been the Diocese of Newark, where I was a member of the Women's Commission (since 1993), the Department of Missions (2 terms), The Commission on Ministry (1 term), The Standing Committee (4 years, one as President). I served as an elected Deputy to General Convention in 2000, 2003, and 2006. I have served as a board member of Integrity, USA, and as a founding member of Claiming The Blessing. I am national Convener of The Episcopal Women's Caucus, and am now member of the national board of RCRC. I attended the Lambeth Conference in 1998 and 2008 representing EWC. I graduated in May 2008 from Drew with my doctorate in Pastoral Care and Counseling and was Proctor Fellow at EDS, Spring Semester 2011. I am a GOE reader. I consult and counsel at Canterbury Pastoral Care Center in Harbeson, DE.

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Quotes from some of my favorite Bloggers and Friends

"How can you initiate someone and then treat them like a half-assed baptized?" - The Rt Rev Barbara Harris

Those who know the deep acceptance and love that come with healing and forgiveness can lose the defensive veneer that wants to shut out other sinners. They discover that covering their hair or hiding their tears or hoarding their rich perfume isn't the way that the beloved act, even if it makes others nervous. Katharine Jefferts Schori at Southwarck Cathedral, UK June 13, 2010

"If you have never been called a defiant, incorrigible, impossible woman … have faith … there is yet time." ~ From Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

If you want to protect Holy Wedlock, by all means padlock the church door whenever guys who love Judy Garland come-a-knocking. But if you want to protect marriage push for a constitutional amendment to ban divorce.

And . . . If that wasn't outrageous enough for you, there's this:

From where I sit, the entire Republican Party should head to OZ – looking for a brain, a heart and a pair of testicles.Helen Philipot

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Thomas MertonEileen the Episcopalifem

"I can only conclude that the social contract that binds us all together in such a single unlikely country is greater than each of us who make it up." Counterlight.

"There ain't nothin' more powerful than the odor of mendacity . . .You can smell it. It smells like death."Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Lord, take me where You want me to go, let me meet who You want me to meet, tell me what You want me to say, and keep me out of Your way. Amen.Fr. Mychal Judge, OFM, Chaplain, NYFD, First official recorded victim 9/11 attack

"You can call the dogs in, wet the fire, and leave the house. The hunt's over." James Carville after the 2nd Presidential Debate

"Literalism in any form is little more than pious hysteria."John Shelby Spong, Bishop of Newark, retired

"Start where you are.Use what you have.Do what you can."Arthur Ashe.

"Ask for help when you need it. Take it graciously when it comes. Try not to be disappointed when it doesn't. Be thankful for something every day. Do something for someone else as a way of saying thank you for your life."John R. Souza